Nicknames
by HowTheHoursGoBy
Summary: Not everyone is what they appear. Or, seven drabbles on seven children of Aphrodite during/after the Wars. Much darker outcome to the Giant War. Rated T for language in later chapters.
1. Survivor

**Nicknames: A Fic Of Cabin 10**

 **A/N: I have way too much writer's-block for my own good.**

 **Criticism is always welcome!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I am not Rick Riordan. Therefore, I don't own PJO.**

 **1: Survivor**

People didn't understand you if you're in Aphrodite.

They took one look at you, and they'd call you… _Things_ , if that's what you want to call them.

But if you're on the younger side, they'd call you others.

Shallow.

Fake.

Weak.

Camp didn't value those things. It just took you in, like a refuge. It allowed you to stay there as long as you needed. As long as you were alive.

Which, for especially the kids of Cabin 10…

Wasn't very long.

You ever heard of the Curse Of Cabin 9?

The Killing Of 10 was worse.

Imagine innocence, such a fragile thing, even for a moment. Like a mirror, a mere reflection of yourself and all those around you.

Imagine that shattering. The naïvety of your life crumbling with nothing you could do to stop it. The road of your childhood abrubly ending with a halt, so many unkept promises and horrifying lies corrupting you from the inside.

They haunted you. Lost friends, murdered siblings, the screams and the cries eventually fading when the victim felt no more.

And yet, even then, you didn't feel like giving up.

There was still someone there. Someone you cared about, someone who you needed to spare from the horrors of the world.

At least, as long as you could.

Annika Reale never lost it.

So why should you make her lose it now?

You are Lacy Slate.


	2. Faker

**A/N: I already had the next one done, so why not post Chapter 2?**

 **DISCLAIMER: Once again, I don't own PJO.**

 **2: Faker**

An idiot.

A bitch.

You heard what they said behind your back, even the younger ones joining in with their censored insults. It was so pathetic, the way that they tried to make themselves take you seriously.

Yeah. Like an eleven year-old matters in war.

You never felt like that.

Well, sometimes you did.

That was the confusing part.

Charmspeak was easier than killing a fly. All you had to do was _mean it_ , which you doubted that even a person from 10 could do.

But lust was a rarity.

People thought that was ridiculous. That the kids from Cabin 10 honestly should have been filled with lust, vengeance, and hatred during the wars.

You held that.

Others did, but they hid it.

Like Piper Fucking McLean.

They thought she was a good-doer, the epitome of all things good and sweet beneath the world. As if she never felt envy or hate or the attributes of a typical jerk.

What crap.

You thought it made no sense, the way they treated you but not _her_. You thought that she was the much more dangerous one, with the way she hid everything like it was no big deal, and the way she tried to spare your innocence.

You were in a position of power.

She took it from you.

You didn't like that.

So you sook _revenge_.

You treated society like how you thought they deserved to be treated, their ignorance making you want to gag more every time you saw it.

You treated the school like how they were, beneath you. Not how you thought of them, friends and enemies and things like that.

Like they were mere dolls, agreeing with your every command.

People never thought you had an ounce of bravery in you.

They thought you were a cheat.

A shallow little-girl.

You weren't that. You were someone that mattered.

They just needed to realize that this all was nothing more _than an act_.

You are Drew Tanaka.


	3. Innocent

**A/N: Okay, so, the unbelievable has happened.**

 **I actually got a review!**

 **Thank you to an anonymous Guest! I'm a little bit on the square of writer's block, and this story was something that I never thought I'd write. So thank you for the motivation! And thank you to Drewt12 for following!**

 **A quick side-note on this chapter: this character is one of my OC's. Yes, an OC, I know. It's just that the problem of the story is that there are only five known children of Aphrodite, and I'd figure there's a lot more than that. Although, she was mentioned in Chapter 1 of this Fic.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own PJO and I never will.**

 **3: Innocent**

You were the complete opposite.

They just needed to realize the truth. That you were a girl who had lost too much and had too little.

Age was never a factor in this.

You thought Fiona treated you well. She was only a few years older, and always treated you as if you mattered. Not as if you were a little girl that didn't have her own opinions.

You didn't need to be protected.

You heard the meetings. (What to say? You were an excellent hider.) You knew that something was wrong and that nobody was telling you it.

Everyone would smile and act otherwise.

You knew better.

Lacy Slate was the only one to tell you otherwise.

"Trust me," she said. "You don't want to know."

You'd frown, believing that you could handle the truth.

But the innocent little-girl act wasn't an act. That was just what they interpreted it as.

You were merely a piece to them. You didn't matter much, at least, not during what was truly important. You were seven years old. How could you be compared to people like Piper McLean on the field?

You wanted a role to play in this. But they never let you have any.

Except for two people. Lacy, who had treated you as if you were an equal from the beginning, and Drew, whose bluntness held no bounds.

They never let anybody else know about what they were letting you do.

"It's known as Private Business, hon," Drew told you. "People don't have to know unless you tell them. If you don't know that, then you're pathetic in everything you try to get away with."

And that, you knew, was because you'd fail if you did otherwise.

Failing was dangerous.

You weren't looking for danger.

So you settled for smaller jobs on the field. Ones such as handling the wood for the fire, moderating supplies, and remodeling your Camp as your own base.

Your Cabin liked that one the most. On the contrary, you preferred the natural feeling of the supplies.

* * *

You didn't know how you made it through the war. Dozens didn't. Jamar didn't, ripped to shreds by monsters until he took his final breaths. Anya from Cabin 6 didn't; she was 'innocent', just like you were.

Except she was older.

You were four years younger.

The way you made it through was by fighting, killing. Watching the blood seep through from the fatal injuries, the cuts you made on the monsters that would merely send them back to Tartarus.

You were simply slowing them down.

But there truly was no other alternative.

Lacy and Piper made it through to tell the tales. Lacy abandoned things for you. Education, free-time, her own future, all for the sake of a seven year old that would never be the same again. All for a seven year old to be protected from the hellish world you lived in.

You wished that she wouldn't do that.

You weren't worth the trouble.

Whenever you passed a mirror, you'd look down onto the floor. You couldn't bear to see yourself.

As a killer.

As a piece.

As someone who was never truly innocent.

You are Annika Reale.


	4. Fragile

**A/N: I'm SO sorry that this took so long!**

 **I meant for this to be updated much earlier, but school and writing the Exiled Prologue took some time.**

 **The reason why I updated now was because I have to work on Exiled's first chapter, and that'll take most of my evening. The plan is to finish this story within the next two weeks and then put a majority of my focus to it.**

 **To guacamole-lover: Thank you! The main inspiration for this was actually because I began to think of how society would** _ **treat**_ **people like Cabin 10. It really does annoy me that so many people believe that they're not in the same league as people from stranger Cabins. But that simply isn't the case. There's so much** _ **more**_ **to them than most people think.**

 **Read and Review! I hope this was worth the wait.**

 **DISCLAIMER: Name doesn't start with an R. I don't own PJO, HOO, KC, MCGA, or TOA.**

* * *

 **4: Fragile**

They never thought you could handle the truth.

Hours upon hours you would spend, yearning for a sense of peace that you never seemed to ever have.

You blamed the gods, in some ways.

They were the ones who had made you go through this pain, after all.

But they also let you meet _him_.

But he was gone. A lost chance at a friend.

Like all those you still had.

When you weren't even a decade old, you would contemplate how hard your life was. A scale of one to ten.

Sometimes there was a two. Other times there were eights.

But never ones nor tens.

Your life wasn't horrible, for say. Before the monsters lurked amongst your nightmares, filling you with a sense of terror that felt as if it would never, _ever_ subside.

You never wanted this. All you desired was attention, the feeling of being noticed. (Then again, look how that turned out.)

You just wanted your father to talk to you, for the bullies to understand that she was never interested and to just fuck off. You just wanted to pass your classes, wondering if that would be the thing to make him care. You just wanted a friend, a lover, a feeling you could never have imagined once, no matter how much you tried.

And then you knew the truth.

Deceit and theft were the key.

You would lie every chance you got. Claim that you were the innocent course, that all evaporated when you met Drew Tanaka, so there's that.

But theft never really left…

It only remained. Amongst the lies. Amongst the graves of those you failed to save.

Oh great. Now you're talking shit.

And then you just _had_ to steal that BMW, didn't you?

* * *

It seemed so easy at the time. Simple enough to work, just this once.

All you had to do was tell him to give you the car, and he'd oblige without a second thought.

Upon reflection, you thought of the many loopholes that plan contained. The many things that could have gone wrong, that _did_ go wrong.

You didn't anticipate to be thrown off to the Wilderness School.

Your father just didn't _understand_. He didn't think of Jane, (who, to you, was much more of a bitch than Drew) and how she wasn't your mother and no matter how much he wanted her to be, it would never be so.

But, of course, you made a mistake.

Or maybe you didn't.

* * *

You hated Drew, even when you fist met her.

Sure, maybe she had _some_ depth to her. Maybe there were layers inside of her that you could never fathom, nor understand.

But she just reminded you of Isabel Coudour, the comments that the latter made that made you want to strike her in the face.

At least your siblings weren't so bad.

Or Leo.

Or Jason.

Ugh, Jason. You wished that he wasn't so complicated. Not his personality, no, but rather the fact that your relationship just didn't entirely make much sense.

You tried to understand where he was coming from. That his life was worse that yours and he was just figuring out this whole demigod thing just like you.

But did it all have to be so messed up?

* * *

The months following the quest were much better.

You got to talk to everyone else, understand who they were.

You got to get to know your siblings.

Georgia had an entire collection of vintage dolls.

Lacy loved to design costumes for school plays.

Mitchell had an affinity for numbers.

Annika adored flowers.

And Drew (strangely enough) had a great love for chess.

You were all family here. Camp Half-Blood was the family you never asked for.

And you felt _happy_ here.

All you wanted was for it to last.

But even you weren't that naïve.

* * *

" _Be careful around her."_

" _She's delicate."_

" _We don't want her to have a breakdown."_

You heard the whispers around you, the friendliness of Camp completely and utterly gone once you came back.

They didn't think you could handle that Jason was dead.

They didn't think you could grasp the reality that Leo was gone for good.

They were wrong.

You could somewhat handle the fact, but it felt as if you were holding the world. It was only moments away from crashing down upon you.

Which it was.

You were the vase of Camp. The careful one that the parents always said you had to be careful around.

The Cabin was barren, now.

Only Lacy and Annika remained, the two of them suffering by themselves.

You tried to help the former.

"I don't need help. Let alone _yours_." Lacy said.

You attempted to defend yourself, "I just wanted to—"

Lacy turned away, facing the door. "Just get out of my sight." She snapped.

You wanted to help. You wanted to prove that the deaths of your friends and siblings didn't impact you.

You weren't a vase.

You weren't a glass shard.

You were a dove.

Just like the rest of what remained of Cabin 10.

 _You are Piper McLean._


	5. Martyr

**A/N: Thank you to PinkRose235, for giving me a wonderful review. I PMed a response.**

 **This was** _ **by far**_ **my favorite to work on, so after many days of waiting, I hope you all enjoy.**

 **And, to Quinn: Yep, I did kill Leo last chapter.**

 **Feel free to give a review on what you thought!**

 **DISCLAIMER: No, I don't on the Riordan Universe.**

* * *

The world was a ticking time bomb.

Or, at least, that's how you saw it.

You always had a sense of paranoia plaguing you, following you whenever you tried to run.

Whenever you tried to escape.

Whenever you wanted it to be _over_.

But every time you wanted it to be, it just kept running back.

* * *

Your father never complained to you about his issues. In fact, he rarely talked to you at all.

You knew it was neglect, as you grew older, but at the time you covered it up with excuses.

 _He was busy._

 _He didn't want to bother you._

 _He was thinking about your mother._

The thoughts swirled around in your head, making you dizzier with every new idea that formed, with every new thing that was the main attraction every five seconds.

You wanted it to stop.

But since you were just a kid, how could it?

* * *

He locked you out of the house when you were nine.

That was when you decided that this, was a little bit more than wavering thoughts.

* * *

When you found the dog, you were curious.

You had always loved dogs, but had never gotten one for no particular reason.

It was only when the dog fought back that a word replayed in your head, over and over again.

Run. Run.

 _Run_.

And so you did.

* * *

The Camp welcomed you.

It was a haven, stronger than any force that could call itself 'protection'.

It helped you throughout four more years.

And for that, you were grateful.

* * *

Lacy was your best friend.

You may be wondering how the hell _that_ happened.

Well, saying you liked _Les Miserables_ didn't cause problems.

And it was the truth, so maybe it helped you in the end, after all.

* * *

It was only after you got claimed that people started having any sort of problem with you.

You didn't know why that was. So what if you were an Aphrodite kid?

So what if they called you _things_?

So what if Drew Tanaka despised you?

So what if the Camp caused you annoyance?

You didn't care about it. Any of it.

 _(But that was all a lie.)_

* * *

The Titan War was a fucking mess.

If anyone tried to tell you otherwise, then they were _wrong._

You thought that they were just acting as if everything was fine, as if everything was okay and all fine and dandy.

But it never was the sort.

You remembered Drew Tanaka giving you the front lines, for you were the one chosen to 'represent' the Aphrodite Cabin?

For what, the Monster-Court?

And, anyways, Tanaka didn't make any sense to you to _begin_ with. Whenever Silena disappeared to recruit the Ares Cabin, she considered it as a moment of her power, a moment to prove her worth to Cabin 10.

And the things you saw there . . .

Nightmarish. Especially for a twelve year-old.

Monsters from every corner, bloody teeth ripping apart garbage cans, yearning for the strange combination that was blood and ichor.

You felt something strange, something cutting into your shoulder. You saw the blood, you saw _all_ of it.

But there was never a single time to stop running.

* * *

You saw Silena die.

You saw her admit her greatest failures. You saw her willing to go to the Underworld, the very thing that your mother was a goddess of fueling her desire to retreat there. You saw Clarisse La Rue going into a rage, nothing destroying the monstrous combination of adrenaline, rage, or willpower.

"You okay?" Lacy asked, as the two of you stood moments away from the injured.

You saw Nyssa Barrera being taken to an unknown location, unconscious and heavily bleeding on the battlefield. Miranda Gardiner was several steps away, looking hysterical. Katie was solemnly staring at the dead, which the Stolls were carting away the corpses by the hour. Will Solace motioned for two medics to come over, and you saw him shake his head.

You felt _nothing_.

Yet you felt _everything._

You didn't understand that. You didn't understand _any_ of that.

So you _lied_.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

* * *

Rebuilding after the War was difficult.

Sure, the kiss at the canoe lake was a minor bright-spot, but even then, all you could think about was _Silena_ , and the fact that she had been the one to organize it to begin with.

You saw people _everywhere_. The dead, the gone. The lost and the alone.

You didn't tell anyone of your hallucinations. Not even Lacy, even though she was only a year younger than you.

You didn't want to be said to be 'going Rodriguez'.

And you _certainly_ didn't want to tell Drew.

So when Will proposed the 'Mental Health Program' for the Camp, you were the only one to silently agree.

* * *

And so you formed an obsession with numbers.

Every hour, of every minute, of every second of every day was recorded on your notepad, so that you could always have a clear idea of exactly _when_ things occurred. You were decent enough at math to figure out the answers, so all it took was a bit of thinking and _bam!_ You had your answer, right in front of you.

Lacy once stated, "You know, I don't get you sometimes."

You merely shrugged, "It helps me cope."

And it did.

* * *

And then, of course, Piper McLean took control.

You didn't like talking about her of every second of every day, but anything, _anything_ was better than Drew 'The Asshole' Tanaka.

And so, after months of unsure emotions and clustered thoughts, you finally felt content.

* * *

As soon as the war started, you quested to be on the front lines.

"Are. You. _Insane?!_ " Lacy demanded of you once leaving the Big House.

You shrugged once more, "Probably."

"Ugh, you can't just do that!" Lacy pressed the topic. "You're going to be _killed_. You know when Silena put herself on the lines last year? Yeah, look how that turned out! And she was eighteen, you're barely even _thirteen_."

"So what?" You laughed, but it came out absolutely hollow. "Are you the only one stupid enough to think I'm worth a war? Hell, Lace. Even _Annika_ would understand where I'm coming from! I'm _fodder_. You're _fodder_. Fuck, we're _all_ the Gods' fodder!"

She didn't respond to that.

* * *

And then the war came, and just as you said, you were the one of those on the front lines.

Roman after Roman. Earthquake after earthquake. You honestly believed that this was going to continue on eternally, never bothering to stop until every single human being on that battlefield was dead.

And then you brought out the Greek Fire, ready to blow everything in the Camp to shreds if it meant destroying _her_. Katie hesitated at giving you it at first, wondering whether or not it was the smartest decision.

But she gave in, eventually. You knew she would.

And there you were, running on the battlefield as if it were a marathon with the monsters, and tremors were the hurdles.

Such fun.

 _Fifty-five feet to go_ , you thought, your calculation changing each time you continued to move.

But then it slipped.

From your hands.

And it exploded. Right there.

Right where you were.

* * *

You were the martyr, the sacrifice of war.

You were the fodder, one that couldn't make it out alive.

And everything just came crashing down until it—

* * *

 _Stopped._

For you were an example of the tragedy.

We all live in.

 _You are Mitchell Johnson._

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed!**


	6. Lost

**A/N: I've been gone for months without explanation.**

 **I'm sorry. Enjoy this chapter as consolation.**

* * *

You first arrived to the Camp in August.

You didn't know why people kept staring at you. That everybody around you was either solemn, or overly excited. They seemed as if they were fake; nobody really acted like you thought they were genuine.

You tried to be understanding. You tried to look at it the way that they were thinking of it. Like it was an oddity, something new to them.

You tried to fit _in_.

But it never really worked for you.

* * *

People whispered around you when the dove appeared.

You could barely hear them, but you got the gist.

"She's a 10? Seriously?"

"Well, no wonder she'd weird."

"You think Piper's gonna finally come back?"

"Nah. Lace's been a control freak."

You didn't know about this 'Lace'. You'd heard about Piper, millions of times. The girl who lost it. The girl who went insane. The girl that snapped from the pressure.

And you began to wonder what went wrong.

* * *

'Lace' turned out to be a twelve year-old.

It wasn't like you expected her to be nineteen or something, but you couldn't understand how a preteen could maintain order at this place. Shouldn't someone have experience?

"Before you ask, I'm twelve and a half." Lacy practical snarled this statement, and you were a little bit freaked out by it.

"I wasn't going to ask," you stated. You didn't want to make Lacy have a bad impression of you.

"Yeah, yeah you were," Lacy said, glaring. "So remember this: _don't lie to ME."_

"I-I w-won't." You stuttered.

Lacy turned to make eye contact, every second of it feeling as if you were on fire. "You're the newest inmate, Diaz. The only ones of us you have to worry about are me and Annika."

"What about—" you started, but she cut you off.

"Sniper McKnee doesn't sleep here," Lacy said. "She sleeps outside." Lacy's tone turned mocking. "She said _it reminded her to much of Jason._ "

"Um," you said. "Okay then."

Lacy stated only one thing on her way out.

"Don't go to effin' 9. If you do, Piper'll come back for the night."

You silently made that an internal note.

* * *

Two months went by.

Annika turned out to be a quiet girl of seven years. She rarely spoke, looking instead at the red garments outside. When it wasn't the red, then it was the tree.

You went down to that tree one time. You were curious of the interest, of the importance that radiated off of it.

When you went there, you found names on the trunk. Numbers from zero to twenty broke the names up into groups.

You put your hand on the names to trace them, when someone began to stare at you. You looked back at them. "What?"

The woman glared even more, before she began to carve a _C_ onto the tree. An _e_ came next.

When she was finished, a name was spelled out. _Celine._

"I-I don't understand." You spoke as quietly as a mouse.

The girl turned away. "They aren't 'round no more."

You got the idea, and turned to check the names again.

Somehow, that one statement had made them all the more frightening.

* * *

Lacy woke up screaming one night.

You looked at her, silently asking her if she was okay.

She put a hand up, the tears siding down her face. "Why, Mitch? Why?"

Even you couldn't find an answer to that question.

* * *

The month went by, and before you knew it, it was November.

Not many people remained at the Camp, and the ones that did usually avoided you. You could somewhat understand why, considering the fact that they were War Veterans.

Some people were there to talk to. Cecil Markowitz, for one. He always listened to your struggles, even when you knew that he had been through much worse.

And then you were the one that saw him sobbing hysterically, so it went both ways."

You constantly heard Lacy screaming at a woman outside.

You automatically assumed that it was Piper. Who else would it be? She was always the one that got all of Lacy's rage thrown at her. It wasn't as if you _blamed_ Lacy, but you couldn't entirely make her into an innocent saint.

"Lacy, I—" Piper said, her voice breaking with emotion.

"Out of my sight," Lacy whispered.

Piper did not move out of the way.

"You heard me, didn't you?" Lacy's voice rose with her anger. "Get. Out. Of my. _FUCKING. SIGHT!"_

Piper looked at her, hastily brought out an apology, and left the area.

You did nothing.

As usual.

* * *

You couldn't really make friends anymore.

Lacy was acting a little bit like a _puta_ , not that you could blame her. You couldn't really talk to Piper without feeling awkward inside. Annika felt like a child soldier.

And you never really saw Cecil around anymore.

You weren't the newbie, so they were past you.

You use wished that you had made more of an impact.

* * *

"I wish I was a part of what makes them _them_ ," you muttered one evening.

Annika winced. "I wouldn't say that around Lacy if I were you."

You looked at her, something that you rarely did. Her black bob of hair gleamed in the night. "Why?" You asked this question, even if you already knew the answer.

Annika stood up, and slumped down to the floor. Lacy was out, so she did not see any part of this discussion. Annika looked at her hands, and then abruptly looked away.

"I'm a killer, Tina. I'm gonna go'ta hell."

. . . You once again didn't know how to respond.

Especially not when God was involved.

* * *

You dreamed of your father. The one that lost touch on reality. The one that swore that he saw your mother, even when he had known for years that she was dead.

You remembered him screaming as he was dragged off to the Institution. " _Help me, Aphrona! Help me!"_

He screamed to the air, not a response bothering to say something.

Little did you know, that under all of that psychosis, he was right.

He was always right.

* * *

Piper left for California during December.

She didn't look back.

And neither did you.

Not to her, anyways.

* * *

Lacy slammed her backpack onto her bed one morning.

You were shocked, of course. Why wouldn't you be? Lacy had hardly shown any signs of leaving, let alone for good.

She looked at you, grinning. "After all this time, and it's finally here."

You asked, "Where are you going?"

Lacy sighed. "I turned thirteen last month, didn't I? Pa said that Annika and I could go to BAG. Get a fresh new start, the both of us." She hastily placed clothing and photos into her backpack. She seemed quite determined when it came to this.

You laughed, although it was shaky. "So that's it, huh? Running off to the monsters?"

Lacy shook her head. "Nah. Gardner's still alive, and she left almost a year ago. The monster stories are how they trick you." She zipped the bag shut, as if proposing a final speech.

You looked down to the ground. "Guess I won't be seeing you around, huh?"

Lacy stood up, grabbed the backpack, and stood up even straighter than she ever had. "You're a good kid, Tina. Let's just hope life turns out well for ya."

 _You kidding?_ You thought. You had _never_ thought of Lacy to be the type to make jokes, not even in such dire situations. You began to wonder what the old Lacy must have been like . . .

. . . And then you shook it out of your mind. The past was not something to be looked upon.

You waved a little when Lacy met up with Annika, as the two of them began to walk away from the Cabin. From their nightmares.

To this BAG of theirs. To a new beginning.

And, underneath all of that dwelling, you hoped that you could start one, too.

* * *

Two weeks later, there was a God that showed up at Camp.

A _former_ one, anyways.

* * *

 _You are Valentina Diaz._

* * *

 **A/N: I'm trying my hardest to wrap up all of my current stories, and then start fresh after a while. Same account, but different ideas come when they come.**

 **Chapter Seven's gonna come out in a few days.**

 **If anyone's still reading this, then I hope you the best.**

— **E**


End file.
